


So Little Left to Give

by Aria_i_Adagio



Series: Whatever I've Done - First Draft [11]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deal with a Devil, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, life lessons learned, poly route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: The Devil runs his hand over my neck.  The piteous cry I manage from the searing burn doesn’t match the scream I actually feel.  Asra’s yell sounds like it’s miles away, even though I know that he’s only a few feet from me.  He stands and straightens his stole.  “But, you see, this is my hobby.  And you are, I’m quite afraid, very much in my way.  It would be so much simpler if you just admitted that you can’t win.”Julian’s eyes shift between me and Asra.  He presses his lips together.  “I love both you.”  His voice is almost too quiet to hear.“I love you.”  The words pull at the burns on my cheek and neck, but it’s worth it, even as I get a sick feeling in my stomach that I’m not going to like whatever Julian does next.“Ilya -” Asra is cut off by a chain looping around his mouth.“How sentimental, but I grow tired of this.”  The Devil flicks his wrist, and I shriek as his chains cut deeper into me.“Wait!”  Julian’s voice cuts across the room.  “Devil, I want to make a deal.”Wherein Asra and Dema have to figure out a way to rescue their damsel in distress - Julian - from the Devil.Realized that made summary made this sound more like a comedy...it isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I’ve got to wrap this polyamorous novelization up for my sanity’s sake, and I think to make this poly route work I was going to have to diverge significantly from canon anyway, so here you go. :)
> 
> Title from Depeche Mode, "Precious"
> 
> Picks up right after after the prior entry in this series: ["Hold Onto the Air"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319461/chapters/40742768)

Julian is already awake when I open my eyes.  He’s sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest, holding one of the smaller pillows and looking down at Asra and me.  The space around us is still the facsimile of the shop, but the light and air seeping under the door are warmer than before.

“Hey you.”  I sit up and stretch my arms my arms and neck.

A smile plays at the corner of Julian’s mouth.  “Hey yourself.”

I reach out and take his hand in mine.  “I think this is the most rested I’ve ever felt.”  He curls his fingers around mine. “What are you thinking?”

“Hmm . . . I was thinking about how beautiful the two of you look, curled up together there.”  

“Yeah.”  I wipe my other hand across my mouth.  “I’m pretty sure I was drooling.”

He leans down and pulls my fingertips to his lips.  “Doesn’t change what I said.”

Asra stirs and mumbles something before rolling over and curling his hand underneath his chin.  I stroke his hair. “I don’t want to wake him up.”

“I don’t either.”  Julian shifts around until he’s sitting next to me and drapes one arm over my shoulders.  I lean into him. “So, this is it, eh. All hero shit from here on out. No going back.”

“I’m scared too.”

I feel his lips press against the top of my head.  “I saw what it did to him. To lose you once. And I don’t want that to happen again.”  

“Julian -”  Whatever I had intended to respond is lost as Asra wakes, rolling back over and sitting up.  He rubs at his eyes and looks confused for a minute.

“What?  Where are we?  Oh.”

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Dema.  That wasn’t all a dream, was it?”

“No, sweetheart.”

Asra leans his head on my shoulder and sets his hand on my chest just over my heart.  “I was afraid you’d say that.” 

I squeeze his fingers and stand, pushing open the door.  It opens out onto the Magician’s sparkling beach. I beckon Asra and Julian after me and find a piece of driftwood to sit on, intending to enjoy the sun while I can.  Julian sits down next to me on the sand and lays his head on my knee. With a yawn, Asra sits down facing me, legs folded, one knee touching Julian’s, and the sea at his back.  

I run my fingers through Julian’s hair.  “So, what’s the plan?”

Asra scoops up a handful of sand and lets it slowly sift through his fingers.  “Death said we could draw strength from the people closest to us.” He sighs and looks away.  “I’ve done a better job at pushing people away than I have at getting close to them. Other than you two, and Muriel.  And I’m not sure that’s for lack of trying.”

Julian picks up his hand and slowly rubs his thumb over each finger in turn.  “There’s my sister and Mazelinka. I don’t like it, but they’ll come. Maybe Dr. Satrinava.  Uh, Asra, can you bring them here?” 

A rueful smile play on Asra’s lips as he looks up.  “I can do that.”

“Just, um, make sure you tell them what’s going on.  I want them to decide for themselves whether to get involved.”

“Of course, love.”  Asra stands again, and runs his hand over Julian’s face before leaning back down to kiss him.  

“Make sure Nadia also knows what’s happening.  I think she’ll help us.”

Asra presses a quick kiss to the top of my head.  “I will. You two stay here. I’ll be back.” He steps away from us, and raises his hands calling a door up from the sand.  His gesture perfectly matches the one Salim used raising his own gate. With a quick smile and a wave, he steps through the gate and it dissolves around him.

Julian and I sit in silence, watching the waves roll in on the beach.  “How did you meet Mazelinka?”

“Mazelinka?  She, uh, found Portia and I after that shipwreck.  I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t come along.  Portia was barely big enough to walk. Mazelinka captained a pirate ship, but her lover was village elder in Nevivon.  She took us there, and well, the rest is history.” He wraps one arm around my leg. “I think I caught the adventuring bug from her.  Left home when I was fifteen. Wish I could say that was the worst decision I’ve made.” 

“Ilya -”

“And she smuggled me out of Vesuvia after Lucio’s murder.  I hate asking her again -”

I tug on his hair to cut him off.  “Ilya, you want to help the people you love, right?”

“Yes, of course, I -”

“Then let the people who love you help you.”

“Ilya!”  We’re interrupted by a shout and then Portia tackles Julian from behind, tumbling him over in the sand.  “I can’t believe you went running off without me again. And somewhere like this.” She gets up and brushes sand off her skirts.  “This? This is amazing. When were you going to tell me about this place.” Portia skips to the water’s edge and happily kicks her feet in the waves.  

I look back.  Asra is lowering his gate back into the sand.  Mazelinka stands next to him, a smile on her face, and her customary wooden spoon tucked into her waistband - along with a nasty looking scimitar..  She pats my shoulder fondly. “Don’t worry yourself girl, Asra told me what’s going on, and I’ll be damned if I let some overgrown goat destroy the world.”

  Asra offers Julian a hand up from the beach and hugs him.  “I couldn’t find, Dr. Satrinava, but Nadi’s going to keep looking for them, and Muriel knows how to open a gate if they’re found.”

“Thanks, I -”

“Hey, Ilya, watch out!”  Portia splashes water across Julian, soaking Asra in the process.  “Oh, oops, sorry, Asra.” 

“Pasha, what you -”

Portia runs further out into the surf, Julian in close pursuit.  They splash water at each other, laughing madly. Mazelinka tuts fondly.  “Those two haven’t changed much. Now how do we find this goat?”

“Um, I -”

“I suspect he’ll find us,” Asra says as he casts a spell over his clothes to dry them out.  “I could see if I can find the Magician, he might know -”

A strike of lightning cuts through the sky, followed by a roll of thunder.  Julian scoops Portia up and hauls her out of the water as the sky above us turning menacingly dark.  A second bolt of lightning hits the ocean in front of us, boiling the water away. When the steam clears, the Devil is standing on the seafloor, shaking his head slowly.

“Dema, Dema, just what have you been up to?  Releasing my prisoners, then picking a fight with my compatriot.  It would have gone so better for you if you had just stayed out of the way.”  He looks over the five of us and sneers. “And you’ve pulled yet more people into your mess.”  

Mazelinka pushes past Asra and me; she’s clearly used to taking charge of situations.  “Now, listen here, you asshole, I don’t know what it is you want.”

The Devil raises a single finger and a short chains whips out from him, knocking Mazelinka’s spoon from her hand.  It catches fire and falls away to sizzle in the damp sand.

“Want?  Everything.  It’s quite simple.”    He raises his hands and Asra and I exchange a glance.  Chains lash out towards us. Asra responds with an arch of seawater, freezing it into a shield.  The first chain crashes through the ice, but it’s velocity breaks; the links falls to the sand, several feet from us.  I concentrate on recalling the sensation that took me over when Valdemar’s chain broke and forming them into an arc of light that I fling out from me, intercepting the second chain.  The chain doesn’t break, but it is deflected back toward the Devil. His eyes go wide, and he quickly dodges out of its trajectory. Would his own chain somehow have injured him? 

“Asra, did you see that?”  I hiss. He gives me the slightest of nods before the Devil bellows.

“Enough of this.”  He kneels down, plunging his claws into the ground.  Flames burst from the sand, surrounding us with walls of fire.  I scream and force a wave of water against the flames, before hiding my face against Asra, blood pounding in my head.  The water did no good. Asra’s arms tighten around me; he whispers in my ears, but I can’t process enough words for his speech to make sense.

The Devil laughs.  “You’re not scared of much, are you, Dema?  But fire - oh, I have that one thing that does terrify you.” 

I hear metal scraping and Mazelinka’s voice.  “You old bastard, I’ll -” Her voice is cut off suddenly and Julian yells her name, followed by Portia’s. 

“Meddling hag!  I think you’ll agree that it’s better if we keep our business just between us.”  The world tilts crazily around me and the Devil’s chains twist around me wrenching me from Asra’s grip and slamming me onto a ground that has turned from sand to obsidian.  I clutch at the links I an find, and they shatter, shards of metal digging into my hands, only to be replaced by more chain slamming heavily aside my back. I try to reach out for Asra or Julian, but I can’t push past the burning metal to reach them.

“Dema!”

I struggle to sit up, and only manage to curl on my side.  Asra and Julian are caught in the Devil’s chains, arms bound tight to their sides.  The Devil’s laugh is deep and rumbling. The floor trembles as her steps to me, and leans down, running a sharp claw across my cheek, skin blistering beneath it.

“The three of you really have been making a nuisance of yourselves, haven’t you?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why?”  The Devil’s attention shifts to Asra.  “Certainly you know better than to think that an immortal creature needs a why to do anything.  Boredom suffices.”

“Bored!  You’re doing this because you’re bored?  Oh, get a hobby!”

The Devil runs his hand over my neck.  The piteous cry I manage from the searing burn doesn’t match the scream I actually feel.  Asra’s yell sounds like it’s miles away, even though I know that he’s only a few feet from me.  He stands and straightens his stole. “But, you see, this is my hobby. And you are, I’m quite afraid, very much in my way.  It would be so much simpler if you just admitted that you can’t win.”

Julian’s eyes shift between me and Asra.  He presses his lips together. “I love both you.”  His voice is almost too quiet to hear. 

“I love you.”  The words pull at the burns on my cheek and neck, but it’s worth it, even as I get a sick feeling in my stomach that I’m not going to like whatever Julian does next.

“Ilya -” Asra is cut off by a chain looping around his mouth.

“How sentimental, but I grow tired of this.”  The Devil flicks his wrist, and I shriek as his chains cut deeper into me.  

“Wait!”  Julian’s voice cuts across the room.  “Devil, I want to make a deal.”

The chains loosen as the Devil’s attention returns to Julian.  “A deal? How . . . interesting. Very well, what do you want from me?”

“Return Dema's body to her, send both her, Asra, Mazelinka, and Portia back to our realm, and swear that you won't harm them again.”

The Devil strokes his chin thoughtfully.  “That’s quite a lot to ask. You may not care for the price.”

“I’ll pay it.  Whatever it is.”

The Devil’s smile could almost be described as friendly, but for the sharp teeth.  “For that, nothing less than your soul will do.”

“Julian, don’t -”

“I - I’ll take it.”

“Very well.”  The Devil snaps his fingers and the chains around me dissolve into ash.  Asra’s arms are around me a moment later, picking me up from the floor, cool hands soothing away the burns on my face and neck.  I shakily get to my feet, holding onto Asra’s shoulders. Julian is still caught in chains. 

“Julian, how could -”

“I had to, my dear.”

“Touching.”  The Devil comments.  “But I believe that I’ll collect now.”

The chains tighten around Julian.  I try to step toward him; Asra barely manages to catch me before I fall.  “How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

“Oh, come now, you know that I can’t break my word.”

“Wait!  Just give me a minute.  Let me say goodbye.”

The Devil turns to me, an inscrutable expression on his face.  “Never say I didn’t do something for you.”

The walls of red flame dissipate around us, and we’re back on the Magician’s beach.  The Devil stands out past the tideline, the ocean still boiling away from him, leaving behind blackened sand.  Julian’s chain loosen just enough to free his arms but remain tangled around his feet. 

Wordlessly, Asra embraces him, pressing his face against Julian’s chest.  “Ilya, I -.” Julian buries his face in Asra’s hair for a moment and runs his hand over Asra’s shaking back.  He looks back up and holds his other hand out to me without letting go of Asra.

I take it and step closer to him, pulling his hand to my mouth to kiss his palm.  He cups my cheek tenderly, fingers brushing over the place where the Devil’s claws had left their marks.  “Why did you do that?”

“I can't stand the thought of you being hurt again, or worse . . . Or the idea of Asra being alone.  Not if there was some other choice.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “The two of you were happy before you ever met me.  Be happy again.”

“Dammit, Ilya.”  Asra pushes away from Julian, almost violently.  “There would have been something we could have done.”

Julian shakes his head sadly.  “I don’t think so. I’m so sorry, my loves.  Just, please, forgive me. Go be happy with each other.”  He leans over and kisses me, before pulling Asra back to him.

The chains around Julian’s ankles tighten, pulling him off balance.  I look up at the Devil, my free hand clutching into a fist. Twisted iron gates rise out of the seafloor behind him.

“Come along now, Julian.  I have a rather important appointment to keep.”

Julian doesn’t resist as the chains pull him back.  I hang around to his hand as long as I can, mumbling endearment.  Beside me, Asra is breathing hard. “I will find, Ilya. I swear.”

As Julian’s fingers slip from mine, the world around me disappears into a silvery mist.


	2. Paying Debt to Karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Depeche Mode, "Dream On"

When the silver mist that coalesced around me fades I'm back in the ballroom of the Palace, sprawled on the parquet floor, but very much in my body.  My body - scars, tattoes, and all - whatever that means.

“Thief!” A shrill voice shrieks in my head.  I push myself to my hands and knees. I can just make out Lucio's ghostly form in front of me.  Mercedes and Melchior circle that spot of air and whine pitifully. “What is this? That body is mine.  Mine!”

I rub my temples.  What was Julian thinking?  He wasn't thinking. Or he was overthinking.  Portia is going to kill him. And then probably Asra and me for getting him into this mess in first place.  Asra - where’s Asra? He should have been sent back to his body, wherever Muriel was hiding with it. 

“Aren't you listening to me?  Didn't you hear what I'm going to do to you?”  Lucio continues to rant. I hold up both hands in the rudest gesture I can call to mind.  

Lucio begins running through a list of epithets, the pitch of his voice rising along with his rage.  Then the half light around him flickers, and he goes silent. Other voices, much older voices circle, surrounding us with whispers.  Melchior growls and snaps at empty air. Mercedes whines and tucks her tail between her legs before cowering against me. I wrap my arms around her neck, grateful to have something to hold onto as the sibilant voices get closer.

_ “It's time, Lucio.” _

_ “We've come to collect.”   _

_ “You've promised us sustenance and yet our bellies remain empty.” _

“No, wait, just give me a few more months.  I'll pay you what I owe. All of it - more! I -”

_ “You said that last year.” _

_ “And the year before that.” _

_ “No, Montag, you pay us now.” _

Four faint flickering shapes surround Lucio's ghost, then start to close their circle, moving slowly closer and closer in.  Lucio struggles as the amorphous shapes wind about his remaining limbs. They finally collapse into some sort of chasm that swallows Lucio whole.  Melchior howls and paws at the floor as if he can break through to his master. Mercedes continue to whine and press against me, and I bury my face in her soft fur, trying to forget whatever it was that I just witnessed.  

“Dema!”  I hear Asra's voice and raise my head.  “Dema, what are you doing? Are you alright?”  He kneels down on the other side of Mercedes, ignoring Melchior's distressed pacing.  Muriel looms behind him. Faust appears from his sash and sways toward me, testing the air around me with her tongue.

_ “Friend!” _

“I'm okay.  Asra, Lucio he -”

“What about him?  Why are his dogs here?”

“He's gone, Asra.  Some . . . things came for him.  Took him away. Something about a debt.”

Asra looks at me closely and blinks several times.  Then he bursts into laughter. “A debt? He owed a debt to demons, and they took him when he couldn't pay!”

Mercedes puts her head in my lap and looks up at me with miserable, mismatched eyes.  I rub her ears. There’s a canine sigh, and then a heavy weight on my shoulder as Melchior sits behind me and peers over at his sister.  “Asra.”

“Sorry, sorry.  It's just a fitting end.  Consumed by his own greed.  But enough with that. We need to stop this ritual.”

“It's too late.”  Muriel holds out a charm.  One of the twig and twine ones he and Asra use for protection in the forest.  But the twine on this one is unraveling, disintegrating into fibers as I watch.  “The ritual already started.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Devil must have gathered most of the people he needs then.”  Asra looks over at Muriel, who is very stubbornly refusing to look at me.  “We should be safe from the compulsion, at least while that charm holds.”

“Won’t be long then.”

“Asra, how did you sabotage the ritual before?”

“I -”  He closes his eyes tightly as he tried to recall the past.  Faust slides up his shoulder and flicks her tongue at his ear.  He laughs again. “Pomegranate juice? I replaced Lucio’s blood in the wine with pomegranate juice.”  Asra strokes Faust’s head and shakes his head. “I don’t know if something that simple would work this time.  Lucio had fewer than half the people he needed present three years ago. But if Lucio’s blood is a key element, we might be able to counteract it with its opposite.”

“What’s the opposite of Lucio’s blood?”  Melchior’s head lifts off my shoulder and he begins to pace around us, stopping at points to growl at the air.

“Yours.  You’re Lucio’s opposite.  Blood is powerful element in magic.  It's the essence of a person, a portion of their power, at least, temporarily.”

“Asra.”  Muriel crouches down beside him and whispers.  “You've been down this road before.”

Asra turns toward him.  “Magic itself is neutral.  Good, evil those are only a matter of intent.”  He looks back at me. “Dema, if we can get your blood into the wine, everyone who drinks it will have a touch of your magic.  It might be enough to break the Devil's hold and negate the ritual.” He takes my hand in his and runs his thumb over my knuckles.  “I don't like asking this of you, my love.”

I look over at the charm Muriel is holding.  More of it has unraveled and the twigs have started to smolder.  “I don't know what else we can try.”

Asra closes his eyes and pats my hand.  “If we can stop this, there'll be some way to find Julian.”

Muriel clears his throat and stands.  “Asra, look.”

Around us, the masquerade guests have continued to dance.  The music has become discordant and picked up a fast tempo, but the dancers appear unable to stop.  Shoes have been lost and feet have begun to bleed and they continue in a frenzy, drawing closer around us.  Melchior's circling has kept them back so far.

“The ritual must be affecting everyone.”

“We need to get out of here.”  I stand and offer Asra a hand, pulling him to his feet.  

One of the dancers gets close enough for their fingers to brush against my arm and I shudder.  “Dance with us.” Their voice is strained. “Join us.”

The closest door is to the right, but we'll have to push through.  Asra keeps my hand in his and grabs Muriel's hand with his other. “Quick, form a shield.”

Together we create a barrier that forces the dancing guests away from us, allowing us to bully a path through to the door.  Mercedes follows me, shuffling backwards as she snaps and growls at anyone following from behind. After a moment, Melchior follows her lead, guarding our backs as we force our way out of the ballroom.  Asra quickly closes the door behind us, and Muriel slings a marble top table in front of the doors to block them. I pause to praise the dogs for their help. We hurry through the halls today Lucio's wing.  There are fewer guests here, but those we pass behave the same as the ones in the ballroom, crying out for us to join them and grabbing at our clothes. The dogs snarl and bite keeping them at a safe distance.

“I never thought I'd be glad to have those hounds around” Asra muttered.  

We turn a corner and are confronted with a solid line of delirious guests.  More than two dogs can possibly keep at bay. Muriel pulls aside a wall hanging and shoves his shoulder against the stone to push open a hidden door.  “This way.”

All of us, hounds included, squeeze into a narrow stairway.  

Asra breathes a sigh of relief.  “Thanks, Muriel, I had forgotten there was a passageway here.”

“I remembered,”  Muriel says simply.

“Where do we go?”

“Up.”  He starts up the stairs, Melchior pushing in front of him and bounding up the stairs.  

Asra takes my hand in his.  “We’ll have to go up to get to Lucio’s wing anyway.”  He shivers and I rub his knuckles with my thumb. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m starting to feel the compulsion kicking in.”

Muriel finally pushes open a second door.  It leads directly into Lucio’s chambers. The hounds bark happily and scramble up onto Lucio’s bed.  Muriel rips the painting of Lucio on the wall and heaves it to the side. He turns back and hands the crumbling charm to Asra.  “I’ll go on.” He stoops to enter the passage, but Asra grabs his hand a pulls him back, embracing him tightly. Muriel blushes and then loops one arm around Asra, returning the hug with more intensity than I expected.

Asra turns back to me as Muriel disappears.  He takes his mask off and sets both it and the charm aside on the foot of the bed.  Concern is clear on his face.

“How are we going to get my blood in the wine?”

“I have an idea.  Faust?” Faust curls along his arm.  Asra’s lip tighten in concentration and then, as I watch, the light around her shimmers, and she disappears.  Asra relaxes, and she appears again. He reaches in his sash and retrieves a tiny glass vial. “That spell takes all my concentration, but if you can distract the Devil, Faust should be able to slip your blood in the wine.”

“Oh, I’ve got some things to say to him.”

Asra chuckles.  “I thought you might.”  His face becomes serious again.  “We will find Julian. I promise.”

“Asra.” I grab his waist and pull him to me, pressing myself against his chest.  Faust coils around my shoulders and then Asra’s, squeezing us tightly together. I can hear our hearts beating in tandem, as he runs a hand over my hair and back.  “I love you so.”

“Dear heart,” he whispers in my ear, then pulls away from me, glancing at the charm.  “We don’t have long.” 

I nod and hold my left hand out to Faust.  She look back and forth from me to Asra, then opens her mouth and extends her fangs.   _ Sorry _ .

“It’s okay, Faust, go ahead.”

She clamps her mouth around my ring finger.  I hiss as her fangs pierce the skin then hold my hand still while Asra collects a few drops of blood in the vial.  He gives the vial to Faust to hold in her mouth, then raises my hand to his mouth, healing the wound with a kiss. “My love.”  He slides his hand around my jaw and pulls me closer to him, pressing his lips to mine.

Asra stiffens suddenly and steps back from me, visibly fighting an outside compulsion.  I look over and see that the charm has completely disintegrated into ash. I snatch Asra’s mask off the bed and fix it back over his face, running my fingers over the taut muscles around his mouth.  Mercedes lifts her head and whines at me. “Stay here,” I warn her.

Asra feet are shifting backwards in small jerky movements, drawing him toward the passageway down to the dining room.  I take his hand and follow him down.

Below the dining room is brightly lit, the table piled high with delicacies.  Three seats remain empty. Asra gasps in dismay when he spots Aisha and Salim, seated together in a wider chair.  Like the time before, Asra is pulled to his seat, his limbs as stiff as a puppet’s. Nadia is already in the seat beside his, her face a perfect study of disgust.  Trying to mimic the stiffness in Asra’s limbs, I take my own place at the head of the table.

“Ah, our guests of honor have finally deigned to arrive.”  The Devil laughs. “We can finally begin.”

I look around the table.  Next to Nadia are two elegant individuals, beyond them, a sullen Consul Valerius is staring down at his plate, beside him Aisha and Salim share a double seat.  A woman I don’t recognize sits directly across from the Devil, her lips pressed tightly together.

The Devil seems to be following my eyes.  “Yes, I wasn’t sure that the Lovers would grace us with their physical presence, but you so happily arranged for that to occur.  And I should welcome out esteemed guest from the South, who seems less pleased that I expected that I found a purpose for her useless brat.”  

The woman says nothing, but her lips twitch into a purely feral snarl at the Devil’s words.  Nasmira is next to her, one gentle hand covering Muriel’s trembling one. An individual I take to be another of Nadia’s sisters is on his other side.  Vlastomil occupies the seat at the other end of the table, looking even more pleased with himself than usual. Valdemar lounges two seats down, one arm extended over the back of the empty chair that had been intended for Julian.  As my eyes meet theirs, they smile broadly revealing sharpened teeth.

“Nevermind our missing Hanged Man.  I can assure you he’s here in all the ways that matter.”  

Volta and Vulgora frame the Devil’s towering form, both rubbing their hands together eagerly, albeit with thoroughly different expressions on their faces.  Portia’s eyes dart between Julian’s empty seat and Asra’s and my corner of the table, a million questions in their frantic moments. The remaining seats are filled in by Nadia’s other sisters.  Navra, Nahara (who keeps leaning around her sister to focus on Portia with no small amount of concern), an unimpressed looking Nazali, and finally, an ethereal woman in an elaborate headdress who watches me with an entirely too serene expression on her face.    

“I must compliment you on your excellent organization, Countess.  Lucio didn’t manage to get half of those I needed here, but you have truly shown your abilities.”  Portia’s turns pale at his words, and she quickly looks away from Nadia. “As for you, my dear, dear Dema, well, one fool is just as good as another.”  The Devil claps his hands together. “And now, let us begin our evening together.”

Stiffly, everyone’s hands pick up knives and forks, cutting into the dishes in front of them.  My own plate is deceptively simple, a crayfish etouffee piled over a pile of grits, redolent with spices whose familiarity I can’t quite place.  It tastes like ash in my mouth. Asra nudges my foot with his, and I feel Faust’s weight slither into my lap. I tilt my chin the barest of centimeters in his direction and cough loudly my throat.

“Some all immortal, all powerful being you are.”

“I’m sorry?”  The Devil directs his gaze to me.

“How many humans have you had to trick, to force to this table to fulfill your plan?  That hardly seems like power to me.” I pick up the goblet and recklessly take a drink for it as Faust’s weight slides from my lap.  Corn whiskey cut with ginger ale - the Devil seems to know be better than I would like. “More like desperation.” 

“And yet, I see that all of you have answered my summons.”

Nadia snorts and sets down her glass of wine.  Her hands continue to move, picking up her fork and knife against to slice into the perfectly seared swordfish on her plate, but that doesn’t stop her commentary.  “I believe a moment ago you attributed the high rate of attendance to my skill as a hostess. An ‘all powerful’ being needs a party planner? Really?”

“Oh Countess,” Volta babbles with glee as she scarfs down her food.  “Such wonderful dishes you planned for us.”

“Hush, Volta!”  Vulgora hisses across the Devil’s place setting - unlike the rest of his, he does not have any food, only a large ornate chalice.  Valdemar simply responds by lifting the plate of boiled lobster from Julian’s place and setting it in front of Volta, who happily begins cracking the claws with her bare hands.  

“Why, thank you, Volta!  I do try to keep the comfort of my guests in mind.  Especially those guests that I’ve actually invited.”

A flicker in the light near the chalice in front of the Devil catches my mind, and I try not to panic.  I swallow another mouthful of my meal and hurried speak, trying to remember to keep my hands moving mechanically as I do.  “You’re truly the best of hosts, Nadia. I can think of people who are threatened by their guests. So threatened that they need to lock them up in chains.”

Nadia arches an eyebrow at me while chewing on a mouthful of fish.  She swallows and smiles, hands continuing to work manically. “Really, now?  I find that it is only the least confident of hosts who find that it is necessary to somehow restrain their guests.  Certainly, if what one offers has merit, it will be accepted freely.”

“Indeed,” Aisha picks up the conversation, taking around a mouthful without a single care for formality.  “I can't imagine why one would forcibly prevent one's guests from leaving, other than being fearful of what those guests might do.  Awful manners, really.”

Asra stiffens beside me, and I can't stop myself from letting one hand slip underneath the table to rest on his knee.

“Maybe we should be sorry for such a goat . . . I mean, host,” I mused aloud.  “Clearly they don't understand what it means to have friendship . . . or love.”

The Devil's fists slam down on the table.  “That's enough of that.”

Faust's weight settles, one again, into my lap, coiling into a circle.  “ _ Done.  Scary.” _  I move my hand from Asra's knee to her coils, hoping she can feel my thanks.  Beside me, Asra breathes the slightest sigh of relief. Faust slides from my lap to his, carefully keeping herself hidden under the tablecloth.

The conversation lulls to comments between closely seated companions.  Nasmira seems to be whispering encouragement in Muriel's ear. He certainly seems steadier with her close beside him.  Valdemar's attention shifts between Vlastomil and Volta, appearing equally bored with both a monologue on work breeding and a running commentary on the menu.

Portia peers down the table to me.  The four Satrinava sisters between us lean back, almost imperceptibly, although Nahara and Nazali are clearly struggling to restrain their interest.  “Dema, Asra,” Her voice is pitched low. “Where's Ilya?”

“He -”  I hesitate for a moment, but Portia deserves the truth.  “He made a deal.”

“He did what?”  Portia drops her knife and fork.  They clatter against her plate. Nahara reaches across her sister and touches Portia's wrist before her hands are pulled back to the act of eating by the geas.  Portia's own hands - trembling with rage - pick back up her utensils.

“He thought he was saving us all.”  Asra's voice is mournful. “Portia, I'm so sorry, Ilya is -”

“A goddamn, fucking idiot, that's what he is!”

The Devil taps the flat of his knife against the chalice in front of him.  All nine Satrinavas roll their eyes at the ringing tones produced by the gesture, but he doesn't seem to notice.  “And now, if you'll join me in a toast to a new world. One which so many of you have had a hand in making whether you realized it or not.”  His eyes are on me as he walks to the head of the table. But the Devil places the chalice in the hands of the oldest Satrinava sister, rather than in mine.  She holds the vessel to her mouth, then pauses, peering over the rim at me with eyes that are uncannily clear. She winks at me and then tips the chalice back, drinking without further hesitation and passing the cup to Nazali.

Nazali follows suit, then Nahara.  Portia drinks with a grimace, and Vulgora with audible glee.  The Devil returns to his seat and did delicately from the cup.  Volta take the chance from him, and then Valdemar pulls it away from her before she can swallow all the contents.  Finally, Asra passes the chalice to me. The dark dregs of wine, my blood, and god knows what else remain in the bottom.  I lift the cup to my mouth and tip it back, swallowing the bitter remnants.

The Devil smiles at me as I set the heavy chalice back down on the table.  “And now, let us, welcome a new world. One where, despite what you may believe, I do look forward to seeing what you'll become.”

The Devil rises slowly from his seat and solemnly claps his hands together.  Asra hand grips my knee, and Portia and I exchange glances. Nothing happens.

The Devil looks around, then claps his hands together for a second time.  Again, nothing happens. My hand finds Asra's, but I have no idea what to do.

Nadia sets down her silverware and stands, clearly freed from the compulsion.  “Well, that is entirely unimpressive. And as I have no memory of inviting you to my masquerade, I must ask that you leave.  Now.”

The Devil seems to be collecting his wits to respond when Volta cries out.  “Oh! What is happening? Why does Volta feel so . . . So light?”

The Devil looks around in dismay as the other guests rise to their feet.  Superimposed over the room around me, I can just make out the chains tying each guest to their seat, as those chains begin to crumble.  Vulgora clutches their throat and then dry heaves before falling to their knees. Valerius stands for a moment and then turns positively green before sinking to the floor, wine spilling from the goblet in his hand.  Nahara grabs Portia's shoulder and steps in between her and Vulgora She picks up a chair and slams it against the table, freaking the broken end as a weapon. 

Valdemar and the Devil exchange a look.  The woman between Salim and Nasmira jumps to her feet and produces two throwing daggers from her sleeve, fluidly targeting both at the Devil.  As the leave her hands, that corner of the table erupts into momentary flames. When the fire subsides, both are gone. There's a pathetic scream from Volta.  “Countess, Countess, I don't know what's happening. I don't understand.”

In the corner of my vision, I can still see the chains wrapping around the remaining courtiers.  But a moment later, I'm pulled from my chair, held tightly in not just Asra's arms but Aisha and Salim's as well.  “We're so proud of you. Both of you.”

I return their embrace and kiss Asra's cheek before pulling away.  Volta cries piteously on the other side of the table. Vlastomil is curled in on himself, doing his best to mimic one of the worms of which he is so fond.  Vulgora repetitively pounds the table with their fists. And the only things I can see clearly are the chains that wrap around them - weakened, but still there.  I push past Portia and the Satrinava sisters and grab Volta's chains. She turns to me, her one good eye watering as she pleads. “Oh please, oh please, help Volta.”  The chains burn my palms, but it takes no more than a moment of withdrawing into myself and allowing a void to rush through me for the chains to shatter in my hands. Without thinking, I grab both Vlastomil's and Vulgora's chains.  Unlike Volta, both fight me, Vlastomil attempting to scurry away and Vulgora clawing at my hand, but the metal links crumble within my grasp. The world goes dark for a moment.

Dr. Satrinava - Nazali - catches me as I sway on my feet, gently guiding me back into Asra's arms.  Nahara and Muriel move quickly, pinning Vlastomil and Vulgora - now pathetically human to the wall and the floor respectively.  A surrendered Valerius is back in his chair, staring at his empty hands. No one seems concerned about restraining the still sobbing Volta.

“You, you nasty thing!”  Vlastomil shouts across the room.  “What have you done?”

“Just you come over here!  I'll break your face. Believe me, I will.”  Nahara presses the splintered end of a chair leg against Vulgora's throat.  The courtier, or - I suppose - ex courtier quiets.

“Countess, they're only human now.”  I lean heavily against Asra as I speak.  Breaking the chains didn't take long, but it took a lot out of me.  

Nadia surveyed the room, then took a deep breath.  “Mother, Father, if you, Natiqa, Nasmira, Nafizah, and Navra would be good enough to return to the main palace, assess the situation, and take whatever steps are needed to secure order, I will be quite obliged.  And please send several members of the palace guard.”

Nadia walks around the table and sits opposite of Valerius, leaning forward over the table.  Volta scrambles across floor. Nazali steps in between the tiny woman and her sister, but Nadia waves her away and allows Volta to clutch at her skirts.  Almost fondly she pats the woman's ginger hair. “Now, would any of you like to tell me what had been going on her?”

“Oh, Countess, kind Countess, Volta did not mean to do so many bad things.  Volta did not want to.”

“Shut up, Volta!” Vulgora lifts their head from the floor to yell, only to be violently cuffed on the temple by Nahara.

“It's over you incompetent asses,”  Valerius growls. “Countess Nadia, I will tell you what I know.”

“Yes, and Volta will too; although, Volta does not know much.”

Valerius rolls his eyes.  “Perhaps the understatement of the decade.  Countess, the years ago the Devil came to me.  It was just after you had fallen into your sleep and the management of the city had fallen on me.  He offered me . . . assistance. And I accepted.”

I take a deep breath and let my vision fall out of focus.  Superimposed over Valerius's human face, I can make out the image of monstrous amalgam of human and ram.  Chains wrap around him - fewer and lighter than the other courtiers, but there.

“Countess, he's wearing the Devil's chains too.”

Nadia nods to me, and with a resigned sigh, Valerius holds out his hands as I approach.  Asra follows close behind me, one hand on my shoulder. I can feel his magic supporting mine as I wrap my hands around the subtle, searing chains binding Valerius and empty myself, allowing the to crumble away into that void.  When I open my eyes, Valerius's face is almost chagrined.

“That . . . costs you, doesn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I find that I am in your debt, Magician.”

Asra gently pushes me into one of chairs and sits beside me, holding my hand in his.  Nadia redirects Valerius to explain just what he gained.

“As I said, assistance to maintain order in the city.  The count was dead, you were asleep. And well, you're aware of precisely how much use the rest of the court is.  I felt as though I was out of options.”

Nadia touches her chin thoughtfully.  “Very well, if nothing else it appears that you have maintained the city in its prior state, even if you have done nothing to improve it.  What do you know of the Devil's larger plan?”

“Nothing, my lady.”

The tall woman, presumably Lucio’s mother sits back in her chair, she props one foot on the table, ignores Nadia glare of distaste, and begins to hone several wicked looking knives.  “I believe that many years ago, my son made a similar deal in an attempt to gain power that he had not earned. And for which, he couldn’t ultimately could not pay.”

“Volta knew he had big plans, yes, but I did not understand them.”

Nadia sighs and strokes the little woman's hair.  “And when did you make your deal, Volta?”

“Years ago, many many years ago.  There was no food, no food anywhere.  I boiled the leather if my shoes, ate grass like an animal, and finally Volta had to sit in the graveyard and gnaw at bones.”  If Nadia is repulsed by the last statement, she hides it well. “He said he would me . . . And he feed me, but I was never full.  Volta was always hungry, and hunger made Volta do cruel things. Inhuman things! Things I did not want to do. Oh, please, forgive me.”

Nadia pats her shoulder and looks to Vlastomil and Vulgora.  “I don't suppose either of you will be forthcoming.”

“I won't tell you anything.  Not a damn thing. You don't deserve to know of the glorious world we were promised!  If the fighting, victory for the strongest -” Vulgora's rant is cut off by the arrival of ten members of the palace palace, led by the familiar Ludovico.  Their uniforms are in disarray, but they salute Nadia smartly.

“Thank you for your promptness.  Please escort Praetor Vlastomil and Pontifex Vulgora to separate cells in dungeons.  Consul Valerius and Procurator Volta are to be confined to their rooms. Please make sure that the windows have been secured and that the doors remain guarded.  And -” She pauses and pats Volta's shoulder reassuringly. “See to it that they are provided with food and drink should they desire it.”

The guards quickly restrain the courtiers and led them away.  Valerius cooperates. Volta more than cooperates; she is practically skipping as they lead her away.  Vulgora threatens the guards as they are divested of their gauntlets and roughly searched for other weapons before being restrained.  Vlastomil limits himself to calling the guards nasty and complaining that he must attend the his worms.

Nadia breathes a sigh of relief when they are gone.  “Now, Asra, Dema, please explain just what happened to Dr. Devorak.”

Asra summarizes the information we got from the Star and Death as well as deal Julian cut with the Devil as Nadia pinches the bridge of her nose and Portia's hands clench into tight little fists.  Nahara stands behind her chair, one hand gently resting on Portia's shoulder. While Asra speaks, Dr. Satrinava steps around the table and catches my eye. I nod at them and they unobtrusively picks up my hand, holding her fingers to my wrist to check my pulse.

“I think Ilya's somewhere in the Devil's realm.”

“Well, his body is folded up in a cabinet at my cottage,” Portia interjects.  “I should go kick him for being such an idiot.” 

Asra ignores her and continues.  “If we can get to him -”

“- I should be able to break his chains, like I've broken the others.”

Nazali presses the back of their hand to my forehead and shakes their head slightly.  “You need to rest, child,” they say softly.

“I can't!  Julian, if we don't get him back -”

Nazali pushes my hair back from my face; their eyes are stern.  “You can barely stay on your feet.”

I shake my head, even as Asra takes my hand and gives me a look that suggests he agrees with Nazali.  “I'll take my chances. There's not another option.”

“At least let us come with you then,” Aisha offers.

Salim quickly agrees.  “Yes, we owe you at least that much.”

Nazali squares their hands on their hips.  “I'll come as well. It's not the first time I've had to save Ilya from some hare brained idea.”

“Don't think you can stop me from going.”  

Nahara gives Portia an approving look.  “Then I will come as well.”

Morga looks up from sharpening her knives.  “Is there a chance to kill this Devil?”

“I don't know if he can be killed.”

“But there is a chance, yes?  That is enough for me. I will join you.”

Muriel simply looks at Asra and nods.

“Thank you,” I say softly.  “All of you.”

“Very well then.” Nadia stand and issues get chair underneath the table.  “I will remain here, but I will continue to gather any information I can about the Devil.  Asra can you leave me with some means the contact you if I find anything that might help?”

Asra gets out of his chair.  Faust slides out of his sash and he holds out his arms, offering her to Nadia.  “Faust can communicate with me if needed, and it's actually better if I don't take her out of realm.”

“Hmm.  I see. Another trustworthy companion will be welcome.”  Nadia lifts Faust from Asra's arm and drapes her around her neck.  “What other assistance can I provide?”

“A safe room where we can essentially, um, leave our bodies in a trance.  And have Ilya's body brought there.”

“Easily managed, come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> I always enjoy hearing from you, whether its a kudo or a comment. You can also say hi on Tumblr. I'm [@aria-i-adgaio](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aria-i-adagio)


	3. I Came Around to Tear Your Little World Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Garbage, "Vow"](https://youtu.be/qZsVcoWRIkY)

Mercedes is waiting for us at the top of the stairs.  She wags her tag happily when she sees me and butts her head against my hip, before looking down the staircase expectantly and whining when it remains empty.  “Sorry, girlie.” I rub her ears. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“I should fucking hope not,” Asra grumbles as Mercedes begins licking his hands;  he pats her head anyway.

Both sighthounds join us as Nadia leads us through the palace hallways.  The halls are a disaster; spilled wine and upturned furniture litter the floor.  Asra keeps an arm under mine letting me lean on him.

We turn a corner and nearly run into a uncharacteristically disheveled Mazelinka.

“Dema, Portia - there you are!”

“Mazelinka!  You’re okay!”  Portia throws her arms around the old woman.  Mazelinka pats her shoulders reassuringly.

“What’s happened?  Suddenly I was back in the Palace, and it was as if everyone had gone mad.  Then just as suddenly they all stopped.”

“Ilya made a deal with the Devil.”

“He did what?”

“And then we were pulled into some sort of ritual.”  Portia explains as much as she can to Mazelinka as we move through the hallways.  Asra interrupts her a few times to clarify a point.

“Well then, I’m coming with you.”

“Mazelinka, I really don’t want you putting yourself in danger again.”

“Nonsense, Dema.  Stop talking like Ilya.”  She takes my free arm and walks alongside me.  “You look like you need all the help that you can get.”

 

Nadia stops in the hall near her rooms and pushes open the door.  “This should do.” It’s a large room, furnished with low tables and comfortable looking cushions for seating.  

Asra looks around the room, the lowers me onto one of the cushions.  I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Mercedes shoves her nose against my face until I rub her ears.  Portia settles next to me, a companionable arm around my shoulders.

“This will do well, Nadi.”

Morga leans against the doorframe.  “So how does this work?”

“Well, we all enter a trance, and I’ll open a doorway into one of the realms - the Magician’s, I suppose that’s easiest.”

“I can open the doorway, Asra,” Salim breaks in.  “Save your strength for later.”

One side of Asra’s mouth twitches in a smile.  “Thanks, Dad.”

Salim continues.  “After that, you’ll just follow me through.  Once we’re in one of the realms its possible to travel between them.”

Morga drops to the floor crossing her legs in front of her.  “And then how do we find the Devil?”

“That’s the catch.”  Asra sits down next to me.  “I’m not entirely sure how to get to the Devil’s realm.”  He looks over at his parents, but they both shake their heads.

Nazali settles herself on a cushion.  “Presumably it isn’t listed in most guidebook top ten lists.”

Nahara snorts from the other side of Portia.  “Top ten places to get conned?”

“Maybe that.  Let’s get started, perhaps we’ll find some other information once we’re in this Magician’s Realm.”

“Entering the trance is easier if everyone holds hands.”  Asra takes mine, and then Muriel’s. Portia squeezes my fingers tightly.  Everyone else circles up and takes the hands of the people on their right and left.  Asra talks everyone through the process of entering the trance state, and Salim opens a gate onto the now the Magician's beach.  Asra holds my hand tightly as we step through. No signs remain of the storm or the sand that had blackened beneath the Devil's feet.  

“Ah, now this is a lovely spot for a vacation!”  Nazali stretches their arms and turns around slowly in the sun. “Nahara, how many top ten lists do you think this place is on?”

“None.  Do you see how clean this beach is?”

“Good point.”

Salim lowers his gate back into the sand and turns to Asra, dusting off his hands.  “Do you think the Magician would tell you how to reach the Devil's realm?”

I laugh.  “An answer from the Magician?”

Asra sighs.  “I know, but it might be worth trying.  Wandering aimlessly isn't going to get us any closer to rescuing Ilya.”

“I have an idea.”  I've never be able to whistle, but no one has ever complained that my voice doesn't carry when I want it to.  Turning away from the group, I shout into the sand dunes. “Scout! We need your help.”

With the exception of Asra and his parents, everyone looks at me as if I've gone quite mad.  Which might well be the case, except Scout - wherever she was - heard my call. She tumbles down one of the dunes a moment later and runs up me, tail wagging.  If she's surprised by the size of the company, she doesn't show it.

“Um, everyone, this is Scout.  She's a, um, guide, of sorts.”

“Oh my God, she's the most adorable thing ever!”  Portia exclaims then claps her hands can over her mouth.  “Wait, oh, was that rude, I'm sorry, Miss Scout.” Nazali and Nahara are grinning at each other. Scout grabs my hand in her paws and barks happily, clearly not offended by Portia’s comment.  

“I don't know if you're going to like what I have to ask.  Can you take us to the Devil's realm?”

Scout steps back from me, her ears falling flat.  She tilts her head to the side and cocks one ear, as if to ask why.

“Please, it's important.  The Devil has Julian, and if we don't get to him soon, I don't know what will happen.”

Scout takes my hand again and pats it as she nods her head.  She barks, more resolutely than happily this time, and marches down the beach, pulling me after her.  I gesture for the other’s to follow.

I can hear the others talking quietly as we move along the beach.  Aisha and Salim are mulling over possible tactics. Portia, Mazelinka, and Satrinavas are engaged in a similar discussion, although theirs has fewer spells and more swords and staves.  Only Muriel and Morga are perfectly silent. Scout turns away from the beach and the landscape around us, turns into forested hills. The ground beneath the trees is overgrown with shrubs and wild grapevines dangle from trees.  Something about it feels familiar. I touch a grapevine with my free hand, and for a second I feel myself gliding through the air with my hands wrapped tightly around the rough surface.

I hang on to Asra's arm, refusing to admit how tired I am, even when he has to catch me from stumbling over exposed roots.  “Do you need to rest a minute, sweetheart?”

We’ve paused because a bush that’s overgrown with a vine bearing fragrant smelling white blossoms.  

“Jasmine?”  Asra asks.

“No.”  My hands pluck one of the flowers and pinch the tip off the bottom.  I touch the torn end to my my tongue and savor a moment of sweetness.  I pick a second flower and hand it to Asra. “I . . . it’s called honeysuckle.  I think.” Asra repeats my motions with the flower and smiles. “I can keep going.  Asra, only a few hours passed in our world while the three of us were here, but it felt like days to us.  What if . . . ?”

He squeezes my hand tightly.  “I know.”

Nazali joins us at the front of the group.  “So, um, Asra, is it actually possible to kill this Devil character?”

“I . . . I don't know.  We do know that it is possible to significantly weaken an Arcana by siphoning of their power, but I don't actually know how those links are created.”

“I don't actually care if we kill the Devil.  I just want to get Julian out. And I know I can break the Devil's chains.”

Nazali loops their arm under mine.  “I understand. That's my primary goal, but it would be rather useful to get him out of the way.”

“I'm not sure that we would want to kill him, even if we knew how.”  Aisha joins us. “Removing a powerful archetype from the cosmos without replacing it would create a significant amount of instability.”

“Disastrous instability, really.”  Salim holds a briar brush back from the path and waited for the for of us to pass through before releasing it.  “It could be as bad as allowing the Devil to merge the realms.”

“So, we need him contained, but not destroyed?”

“Exactly.  Trapped in his own realm.”  Salim snickers and for a moment sounds just like Asra.  “An appropriate end.”

***

The ground under our feet slopes down as Scout leads us further into the forest.  As it evens out, the soil turns bogy and the air grows damp and fetid with rot and sulphur.  Slowly the space between the trees increases, until we’re looking out on a stagnant lake, covered in a green scum.  Scout points to the center of the lake. A forbidding island lays low in the center of the lake.

Portia hugs herself.  “I don’t think I like this place.”  

“How are we going to get out to the island?”

“Leave that to me.”  Salim gestures a hand over the water and a raft formed of driftwood rises to the surface.  It doesn’t look especially stable.

“Will that hold all of us?”

Salim selects a straight sapling and cut it from the ground with a chopping motion of his hand.  “Believe it will, and it will.”

Someone out of the ten of us has sufficient belief, as the raft makes it across the shallow lake and to the island.  Scout remains behind, waving us on from the muddy shoreline. Salim polls the rafts to a ramp of glossy black flagstones that rises slowly out of the water.  The raft skids to a halt. Nahara hops off and offers a hand to both Portia and Mazelinka. Salim is the last off the raft, and as he steps away, it sinks back into the water.   The flagstones continue across the soft ground, leading to a rickety mansion with a double porch, overhung with dangling moss.

“Do you think Ilya’s in there?”  Hands braced on their hips, Nazali looks over the decrepit house.  

Asra surveys the portion of the island we can see.  “I think it’s the first place to look.”

“And the Devil?”

“I can’t imagine that he isn’t expecting us.”

Nahara purses her lips and looks us over.  She’s clearly used to taking charge. “So if we find Ilya, the first priority is to free him.  That’s your job, Dema. If the Devil or something else is there, the rest of us can distract him.”

Mazelinka whispers something to Salim.  He nods and with a small gesture the sapling he still holds in his hand turns into a mid length sword that he passes to Mazelinka.  Nahara makes a similar gesture and the staff in her hand doubles. She tosses the second one to Portia. “Remember how to use this?”

Portia catches it easily.  “You bet I do.”

Nahara nods in approval.  “Good, you stay with Dema and Asra and help with your brother.  Captain, if you’ll cover the three of them.”

“Of course.”

Aisha looks around a folds her hands together.  I can see magic beginning to gather around her fingers.  “Are we ready then?”

Morga rolls her shoulders and strides forward.  “I’ve been ready.”

The porch planks creak beneath our feet.  Morga pushes the door open, and we step into a large hall, far larger than the exterior of the house could contain.  Broad curving stairs led up to mezzanine. We follow her in, fanning out around the doorway. Asra and I enter last. When I step past the threshold, a mammoth fireplace flairs to life on the opposite side of the room, flames reflecting off mirrors lining the walls.  

A familiar laugh rolls across the floor and a goat headed silhouette appears in front of the flames.  “Oh, Dema, Dema, still pulling other people into your messes.”

Asra grabs my shoulder and whispers in my ear.  Off to one side of the Julian is hanging upside, trussed up in chains and suspended from the ceiling.  Nazali gives him a little shove in Julian’s direction just as three chains snake out across the floor. “Go!” Salim shouts as Muriel rolls one of his charms - apparently made from bits and twigs he gathered as we were walking through the forest - across the floor.  It collides with the chains, deflecting them away from us. Portia, Mazelinka, Asra, and I run toward Julian as the others fan out between us and the Devil.

Julian is hanging with one leg outstretched above his head and the other bent at the knee.  Heavy chains wrap around his shoulders and torso, smaller chains criss cross over his lips. Asra pulls the fine chains away from Julian’s mouth, wincing from the heat.  He passes his hands back over Julian’s face, healing the burns there. I wrap my hands on the chains around Julian and choose my eyes, drawing in my own power along with Portia, Mazelinka's, and a touch of Asra's to break them.  

Julian hisses.  “Wait, Dema, stop.”

“Julian, we don't have time for this.”

“No, listen to me, if you're going to try to attack the Devil don't free me yet.”

“For fucks sake, Ilya -”

“Until you break these chains the Devil can't actually harm either of you.  Or Portia, or Mazelinka. That's an advantage.”

I glance at Asra.  “Dammit, he's right.”

“The tree, with the chains, at your parents gate, Asra, remember?  We knotted the chains around themselves. I think you can do something similar.”

“How?” Asra grabs the chains wrapped around Julian, tugging him toward him.  “He's not going to let us walk in circles around him.” He lets go on the chains and nervously looks back over his shoulder.  His parents are fighting in tandem, Aisha attacking with spears of ice as Salim raises walls from the ground to block the chains.  They shatter on impact but are an effective deflection.

I think back to the beach.  “I was able to redirect his chains before.”

“If he can't break his deals, then he might not be able to break his own chains.”

It could work.  It had to work, because I didn’t have any better ideas at this point.  I balance on my tiptoes, cup my hands around Julian's face, and press a quick kiss to his mouth before dropping back on my heels.  “You're brilliant.”

Julian's response is a lopsided grin.  “Kick his ass, my loves.”

“Portia, Mazelinka, stay with Julian.  Asra come on.”

Agile as a cat, Morga dances between the links, stabbing at the Devil's form with her spear.  She makes contact several times, but stabs leave no wounds on Devil's form. She's a pest, but powerless to be more than a distraction.  Nahara accompanies her, staff arcing through the air. She's using magic to multiply the force of her hits, with somewhat more success than Morga is experiencing.

On the sidelines, Nazali sketches a series of signs.  I don't have time to examine the spell as I pause next to her, whispering for her to call back Nahara and Morga.  She nods without asking for a explanation and yells over my shoulder for the other two to fall back.

I race forward, directly at the Devil.  A chain whips toward me, threatening to wrap around my feet, but at the last moment it skitters in the opposite direction - Julian's deal at work.  The Devil looks confused for a moment, then he flings another chain at me. A wave of ice appears in front of me, breaking the chain’s velocity and sending it snaking across the glossy floor.  I glance to my side. Asra and Aisha are working in concert. Asra concentrates on covering me while Aisha directs spears of ice at the Devil, distracting him as much as she can.

I grab the next chain the Devil throws across room, bracing myself for the searing burn, but instead of trying to shatter it, I throw it back, using magic to whip it in a wide arc that loops around the Devil’s form.  Before he can respond I snatch another of the chain from the floor and throw it to cross the other one, wrapping around his body from the opposite direction. Catching the chains with my hands was painful, but in manipulating them it’s as through I’m becoming the fire itself.  Staggering from the pain that courses through me, I tug the free ends back to my hands and pull as hard as I can, trying to pin the Devil’s arms to his sides. For I moment I think it’s not going to be enough, then suddenly Asra’s arms are around me, helping me pull the chains tight, and then an even more massive presence behind Asra.  The Devil looks at us in shock as his arms are pinioned next to him. With a sob, I seize the other chains from around room with my magic and whip them in arcs around the Devil, tangling them in and around each other, catching him in a tight net. The links convulse as he strains against them, but none of his movements seem to weaken them.

But we can’t stand and hold the end of this chain indefinitely.  The tree - it hadn’t mattered, the chains had tangled themselves, and there was no one there to work them loose.  Here, though, the Devil was restrained, but without us holding the chains taut, he would work his way loose. Somehow I would have to fix them in place.

The fire from the chains still pulses through my veins.  I push it back out, into the chains themselves - not to break them, but to melt them into each other.  My vision blackens and my ears ring as the fire sweeps through me, and for a second all I can see is an island covered in ashes and men in bird masks.  They have a girl by the wrists and feet, hair falling around her head in tangles.  _Run, girl!  Run or you’ll die._  A whisper from the past.    _Leave this place, these people._

This isn’t how it happens.

Not this time.

There are arms around my waist, and a white haired head pressed against my shoulder.  I’m not alone this time. And - a ribbon of power of magic, crimson and clever and reckless weaves around my fingers - this fire can’t harm me.  Hurt me? Oh yes, it tears at the edges of my consciousness, but it can’t harm me. The Devil can’t harm me. A voice whispers in my mind - the Tower, I think - repeating my lesson.   _You are stubborn, you are brave._

Another voice, exacting yet kind - Temperance.   _Make it through, child.  And be stronger on the other side._

Just beyond my blistering fingertips, the links of the chains soften from the heat.  It’s not enough. I close my eyes and extend my senses - past Asra, beyond Muriel, until I feel the others around us.  Strong threads of love and support run between us. Some pass through others before they reach me, some connect to multiple people here, binding us all together into a web of strength.   More tenuous threads - a desire to end the Devil - connects Morga to me. Fainter, but still something to draw on. I draw their power in along with my breath.

And with a final scream I let myself go entirely into the fire flowing through me and out into the chains that surround the Devil . . .

. . . A wall of water pours over me and I hit the floor, breathing hard and hands shaking.  Asra crouches next to me, running his hand over my face and calling my name. Beyond us, the chains have fused together into a solid cage around the Devil.  It reverberates with his howls, but it holds. I put a hand on Asra’s shoulder and try to stand. I’ve got to get Julian loose. My knees give under me, and Asra catches me before I fall again.

“Breath, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Portia’s shout draws our attention to the side of the room where Julian is still suspended from the ceiling.  “Get away from him you creepy ass motherfucker!” She launches herself at Valdemar's horned figure, armed with nothing more than a staff and rage.  Nazali and Nahara sprint past us a second later, Mazelinka following close on their heels. Nazali yells over their shoulder for us to get Julian free.

Asra pulls me upright and together we stagger back to Julian.  His eyes are wide. “Dema, you don’t -”

“Julian, my love, you are talking too much,”  I mutter as I wrap my hands around the chains holding him.  They burn my hands for a moment, scorching skin that I’m surprised to still have, and then that familiar emptiness spreads through cutting through limits and past boundaries, a wind whipping ahead of a rainstorm, birds bursting in tandem into the sky that turns to night, the darkness between the stars as they push away from each other.  Then a hand - father’s hand - pointing out the constellations that give form to the sky. A child’s voice and then a mother’s responding with a song, protective, a blessing. And then I’m falling, falling back, blinding lights shooting through my eyes and into my skull.

 

Dark grey smoke curls around me.  There’s no up or down, I drift aimlessly in the smoke.  I lift my hands, hoping to feel something in front of me.  As I watch, the left turns to cinder then disintegrates into ash.  It doesn't hurt. It feels like relief, trimming away of something that wasn't really part of me anyway.

A cackle breaks the smoke, and Valdemar’s monstrous figure pushes through the clouds of ash, dragging a mass of chains after it.  “This is delightful. You find yourself, but in that you lose yourself.”

Valdemar starts to laugh again, then staggers as something - someone - hidden by the mist, lands a hit.  The chains wrapped around its form rattle against each other. The sound is brittle, and I see cracks forming in the links as hits are landed one after another.  Nahara and Nazali - there must still be a touch of my magic in them. A link breaks and pieces of rotted word fall away.

The beast huffs.  “At least I get to enjoy this last irony, little magician.  You may win, but only because you're like me. It isn't easy, being both dead and alive.  How will you manage?

I hear distant voices calling my name.  Unseen hands ghost along my face and drag along my arms and as they pull away I feel the parts of myself coming back together.  The pain behind my eyes is still there, but I can breath around it.

“I’m not like you.  Not at all.”

"Who are you to judge me? You're monster yourself - an exquisite corpse. A body stitched back together from pieces. A dead girl's memories. All paid for with half of a heart."  Another link breaks and vulture flies away only to dissolve into the ash and smoke of this place. Valdemar groans, but their toothy smile never fades. "Those memories. Now you know, you haven't been alive for a long time - not really. It's just a role, and you've never even been a good actor."

“But I’m not dead either.”  A sense of calm pours over me as I step toward Valdemar.

"You'll come here again, and again, until one day, you can't find your way back."  Another piece of Valdemar falls away, skittering off into the smoke.

“I have people to call me back to life.”  My reply is soft, more for me than for the creature that will soon cease to be.

The creature snarls as it is hit again and falls forward.  A strange peace comes over me as I push my hands - whole again now - back and then draw them forward concentrating the power that the people behind the smoke are offering me into a ball of light.  Slowly, I approach Valdemar. The seething tortured tangle of their body is barely held together by chains. Pitiful. I spin the light out from my hands in a thing tendril that wraps around the chains, then with a jerk of my fingers, I pull the thread tight, slicing through links.

And once again the world goes dark around me.

 

Distant voices, but getting closer.  “Dema? Dema, please be okay.”

My head hurts.  No my entire body hurts.  A cool hand rest on my forehead, relieving some of the pain.  Asra’s hand, and that voice is Julian. I groan and squeeze my eyes tighter closed before letting them flutter open.  The light stabs at my eyes, and I wince, then there are two very concerned faces looking down at me, blocking it the worst it.

I try to smile, but it’s probably pretty contorted.  “Hey you, both of you.” I start to push myself out of the floor and then Julian has an arm behind my back, pulling me up and then clutching me against him.  “Hey yourself,” he whispers in my ear.

Asra leans his face close to me.  “Dema, are you okay? Do you remember -”

“Everything, Asra.  I remember everything.”

He slumps against Julian’s other shoulder, relief spreading across his face.  He stretches out a hand to touch my face, then lets it drop so that his fingertips rest on my chest just over my heart.    

I settle against Julian letting him stroke my hair and whisper endearments in multiple languages, while I try to concentrate enough on my breathing to help with the headache.  Twenty five years worth of memories are a crushing weight. Then I remember Portia and grab Julian's shoulders pulling myself up to look over them, startling both Asra and Julian.

“Portia, is Portia alright?”

Mazelinka answers me.  “She's fine. A couple of bruises and a mild concussion that Salim already healed.  Right now, I think she's enjoying being fussed over by a certain princess.” She winks at me and gestures to where Nahara and Portia are sitting together.

I sit back down beside Julian and create his face in my hands, turning it to one but side then the other, checking for injuries.  “Are you alright?”

“No worse for the wear.”  He picks up Asra's hand and kisses his fingers.  “I'm so sorry. I -” Asra presses a finger against Julian's lips.

“I'm just going to be glad we got you back.”

Nearby Aisha and Salim are conferring with Nazali.  Aisha comes over to us, a gentle smile on her face. Behind her I can see Salim beginning the process of calling the gateway.  “We need to go now, my dears. This still isn't a safe place.”

Asra gets to his feet and holds out his hand to me.  “Dema, can you stand?”

I take his hand and try to get my legs under me, but my knees feel like they're made of jelly, and I have to hold onto Asra to stay upright.  Julian stands and picks me up. “I've got you, _solnishka_.”

In response, I loop my arms around his shoulders and nuzzles my face into his neck.  “Take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this needs a coda. I'll get right on that.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I welcome comments. Here, or come say hi on Tumblr [@aria-i-adagio](https://aria-i-adagio.tumblr.com/).
> 
> eta: Ao3 did something weird where this chapter didn't show up on the main page, so I took it down and reposted.


	4. Coda

Julian sets me down beside the door and I step through on my own.  Seeing my for back down in our realm is a different sense of falling, lacking in vertigo, as I reenter my body.  It's solid, and real, and all of the soreness and exhaustion has crossed over with me, but my hand is in Asra's and his victory grin has brought out the dimples in his cheeks.

Behind us Julian groans.  “Why do I feel like someone packed me into a closet with a shovel?”

“Ilya!”  Asra tosses his arms around Julian’s shoulders.  

Next to me Portia mutters something about not having used a shovel, as a hoe was more appropriate.  I ignore her and turn around to wrap my arms around Julian’s waist. My head is still throbbing and each delighted exclamation for someone else in our group appears as a stabs of colored light behind my eyes.  But Julian’s hand is in my hair and Asra’s thumb is running over my cheek, and for those two things, I can handle a few aches. 

  We're greeted by three delighted snakes, a squawking raven, a relieved wolf, and one dopey sight hound who is determined to ignore both her brother’s skepticism and Asra’s annoyance.  Mercedes calms down a bit when Faust bops her head against the dog’s nose to forestall a move from licking my face to Asra’s.

Nadia had been keeping watch in a corner of the room with her sword at hand, promptly tosses it aside and begins fussing over Portia and me and insisting that we stay at the Palace until we've recovered.  We don't make it home that day. There's no option other than to accept Nadia's hospitality, especially when I can still barely stand on my own, and neither Area nor Ilya is much better off.

I decide not to complain when I once again find myself floating in Nadia's absurdly wonderful bath, hot water soaking the lingering pain from my limbs, with no small amount help from Julian's very clever hands.  I smile to myself as a single recollection pulls itself away from the maelstrom of recovered memories in my mind: Julian folded up in a wooden tub that’s barely big enough for him, tugging my hand for me to join him.  I curl my fingers around Asra’s remembering again the thousands of partings and reunions, brief and long, going away but always, always coming back together. 

Julian pulls us out after Asra comes close to nodding off into the water.  Wrapped up in fluffy robes, we find our way back to one of the guest rooms assigned to us and collapse in bed.  Faust is already there, curled up in a flannel lined basket. Asra is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.  I remain awake just long enough to see Julian pull a blanket over us and to hope that he is able to get to sleep.

When my eyes flutter open again, I’m alone in the bed.  Asra and Julian are nearby. They’re sitting on the room’s sofa, back to me, heads close together, talking softly.  I sit up as quietly as I can, and stretch my arms above my head, relishing the faint tug of muscles and tendons. With each step across the floor, I can feel the weight shifting along the ball of my foot and back to my heel.  I lean on the back of the sofa and bump my forehead against both of theirs. Asra’s greeting is a whispered “sweetheart;” Julian silently presses his lips to my temple. 

“What do we do now?”

“We don't have to do anything.”

“And we can do anything.”

 

*****

 

Asra and I reopened the shop.  Asra didn't complain too much when Julian and I let Lucio’s hounds follow us home.  Mercedes had adopted me, and Melchior would follow her. The second day we were home, Asra pulled a chest down from the attic that held items that had belonged to me in the past, explain that he had put them all away after he came back one afternoon to find me clutching my head, sobbing over a slender dog eared book.  I hadn't been able to speak for days and went through weeks in a listless fugue. The margins were filled with scribbled notes in my father's hand. I couldn't recall that breakdown, or any of the others Asra mentioned as he explained why he had put everything away and kept so much hidden from me. I kissed his hands and reassured him that I understood, that I forgave him if that's what he needed from me.

Nazali decided to remain in Vesuvia for the time being.  Nadia had plans to demolish the coliseum and replace it with institutions to benefit the public good.  The first planned was a hospital, intended to both provide treatment for the seriously ill and to train doctors for the city.  Nazali was the logical person to place in charge of the project. Julian was her first hire; they set up a temporary clinic in the same South End neighborhood where Julian had worked during the plague.

Home rapidly expanded after Nadia decided that a single room apartment was not big enough for three adults, two dogs, one snake, and one raven.  Especially when Aisha and Salim were temporarily in the back room downstairs. Nadia purchased them a house with an attached workshop in the same neighborhood as ours, then she made the neighbors an offer for twice what their house was worth and set Julian to deciding how to connect the houses.  Money, she assured us, was no object.

She tried hard to hide her shock when Julian and I showed her a relatively simple plan that left both the shop and the house basically as is, connecting them with a double porch built across the back, the narrow space in between the buildings filled in with storage space on the ground floor and a half bath above.  A wall would be removed upstairs to connect two rooms into a single large suite connecting to that half bath, and Asra had suggested vaulting the ceiling to leave the cross beams exposed. For “aesthetic” purposes. That left a small room Julian planned to turn into a study and second bedroom in the upstairs of the second house.  The downstairs - divided into a front living room and a kitchen and a small bath in the back - was already perfectly functional.

The Countess was mollified when she saw I had added on an outbuilding, connected by a covered walkway, that contained a bath to rival her private one.  I had my priorities. And Julian had figured out how to route the water into a constructed pond. Portia and I were researching plants that would sufficiently filter out salts and soap residue to use the leftover water for the garden.  Possibly enough to keep fish in it, if I so desired.

Portia helped me rehabilitate my garden beds, and everything started to feel in place when Muriel showed up one morning and shoved a large wooden basket into my hands.  Ten chicks and two banty hens were quietly clucking inside. He grunted in response to my thanks and silently started repairing the half toppled chicken coop in the backyard.  I let my new charges explore the yard while Inanna guarded them and through some shared canid language taught Mercedes and Melchior that guarding the hens, not attacking them was their new job.  If the spoiled hounds took umbrage at becoming working dogs, they didn't show it.

I sat on the back step, back pressed against the stone wall, still cool from the night air.  The door hinges squealed, and Julian leaned down, to hand me a steaming mug of coffee. He folded his long limbs up to sit next to me.  Asra knelt on his other side, holding his own mug and a plate of pumpkin bread for us to share.

And it finally felt right.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... confession... I've never actually finished anything this long, so I have no idea how to write a denouement. Especially when everything came together piecemeal, and I want to go back and develop themes.
> 
> Suddenly, I understand why everyone in Dostoevksy's novels ends up death, mad, or sent to Siberia. It's just easier that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't fret too much. I promise that there will be a happy ending in this version. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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